For about the hundredth time, I uttered, "Jen, you’re an idiot." through the black nylon scarf that was in my mouth. The scarf was tied around my head, and went in my mouth, between my teeth, drawing the corners of my mouth back in a forced grin. It wasn’t effective in keeping me quiet, and was more symbolic than anything.
I looked at the chain leash holding me in place. Our home is a raised ranch, where the front door leads to half a flight of stairs up to the living room, and half a flight of stairs leading down to the family room and workshop. The stairs had a black iron railing to prevent falls. I was secure to the iron railing at the top of the carpeted stairs by that diabolical leash. The leash was fastened to the iron railing by threading the chain through the handle, around the railing. The chain itself led to a snap connected to the jeweled dog collar around my neck. I tugged uselessly at the chain by leaning back against it, for again the hundredth time, and again it was strong and secure. I could have simply unsnapped the snap or unbuckled the collar, if I had the use of my hands.
They were covered in long black gloves, and handcuffed behind me. If that were not enough, the handcuffs were threaded under the rope that went around my waist, then down and through my crotch. I could have unlocked the handcuffs, if I had the key, but it was on a small silver chain around my neck. The chain was too tight to slip over my head, unless the clasp was undone. So, I needed to be unlocked to reach the key, and I needed the key to unlock my hands.
I gave a futile tug at the cuffs, and the rope pulled at my crotch. It was an evil rope, because it was imbedded in my slit, and pulling on it rubbed my already abused clit. An electric like shock tingled through my thighs and crotch at this, and I thought, "Oh, no, not again." I pulled again, and there was the shock again. A few more tugs, and I was moving my hips, putting more tension on the rope, and pulling it with the handcuffs. Again, I was soaking my black lace nylon bikini panties, but I did not care, as another orgasm coursed through my body. I collapsed against the post of the iron railing. Again I said, "Jen, you’re an idiot."
I glanced down at myself. I saw my 36C breasts, pushed up by the black lace bra. I saw the black lace garter belt that held up my black nylon seamed stockings. I saw the matching black lace bikini panties, now soaked with the aroma of a woman in heat. I saw the high heeled sandals, firmly strapped to my feet. My ankles were roped together with soft braided nylon rope. Above and below my knees was more rope, welding my legs together. Then there was that infernal crotch rope. I arched my back, and looked down at my gloved hands. They were held in place by the gleaming handcuffs, threaded under that cursed crotch rope. I pulled up on the cuffs, and by curling my fingers, could just touch the knot that held everything in place. Of course, this started things all over again, and soon I was moaning as another orgasm convulsed me.
Exhausted, I swung my legs up to the top of the stairs, and lay down on my side, my head held close to the iron railing by the chain leash. I closed my eyes, for just a minute, but found myself drifting off to sleep on the soft carpeting.
It all started a few weeks ago. I work about a twenty to thirty hour work week, going to small businesses, and doing their book keeping. My husband Ron is a great guy, kind and considerate, for the most part (well all guys have some faults). He works for a corporation in the city, keeping their computers going. He said he was IT, whatever that means.
Ron is a considerate lover, and we make love a couple times a month. There was always something lacking though, as though he wanted something more, but was afraid to ask.
He had a work bench in the basement, where he did things for the house, and puttered around, turning large pieces of wood into small pieces of wood. He did build a nice bird house, and a trellis for my roses, and he keeps up with the honey do list well. He takes care of the yard, and I do the decorating, gardening, and keep him in clean clothes, and well fed. He also keeps the cars tuned up, and does all the maintenance himself. He really is quite mechanically talented.
I was trying to hang a picture on the wall, and needed a nail or a hook for it, so I went down to his work bench. I opened the drawer on his organizer, and got just the nail I needed and took a small hammer off the peg board. As I did, I brushed a couple of rags, and noticed the corner of a magazine, sticking out. Curious, I took the magazine and was horrified to see it had a woman all tied up in ropes and a gag on the cover. She was topless and wearing panties, stockings, and high heeled shoes. I thought, ‘I am married to a rapist?’ I looked around in different hiding places, and in the bottom of the tool box, discovered a stack of magazines about six inches high.
I took the magazines upstairs, and started to look at them. Some of the women were tied painfully, and had clips on their breasts, and some were tied with their hands tied behind them to their ankles. I learned this was a hogtie. I started to read the stories.
The stories told of women who at first fought their bondage, but then were turned on by it, and ended up loving what was being done to them. Other stories were about women who enjoyed their status as their partner’s plaything. I realized that none of the stories had to do with rape, and breathed a sigh of relief. Still, it was weird. My husband of three years was a pervert. I carefully replaced the magazines where I had found them.
I was quiet that night. Ron asked what was wrong, and I said, "Nothing, I just have a headache." He got me a couple of aspirins, and I took them and went to bed. I tossed and turned, with so much on my mind.
The next day, I got home from work, and fired up my computer. I searched the internet for the keyword, "bondage", and was amazed at the amount of things I found. One listing was for a site called bondage directory, so I went to that. They had links for hundreds of sites. Most showed pictures of bound women, some naked, some dressed in lingerie, and some in different clothing. Almost all were membership sites that required payment, through credit cards. One site was stories, "Writings of Leviticus". I thought it strange that the site should have a biblical name, but clicked on the link to that site. It did not require membership, and had two categories: Forced Nudity, and Bondage. I entered the bondage stories, and saw that two stories were updated, "On the Water", and "City of Hopeful". I read the stories, and found that they each were about love between people. I did not like the caning that the women got in "On the Water", as I thought it too severe.
I shut the computer off, and found that I was breathing heavily. "Oh, no, Jen, you are not perverted, too?"
The next day, I went back to the site, and read Paul and Suzi’s story, "The Student and the Soldier." It was sweet that they fell in love like that. Still, it was something I could not do. She was lucky she did not end up in the bottom of a lake. There are kinky people, then there are murderers. I read of missing girls and women all the time, who are found dead beside a road, or at the bottom of a pond. I shivered as a cold thought went through me. I hoped Ron was not like that, with a secret life as a killer.
That night, I looked at Ron, and wondered what was really in his heart. Again, I went to bed early.
The next day, I had an accident. I drive a small car, and had stopped to get some groceries. A big SUV was parked next to me on the right, and I could not see around it. I backed out and bang, a minivan crunched my right rear. Fortunately no one was injured, but it was a mess, with the air bag in the van and all. A policeman came and wrote up a report. The officer was kind, young and good looking in his uniform. He did not have the paunch some seem to get. He saw that I was shaken, and did not give me a ticket. He said he understood about the limited visibility. Then he noticed me staring at the handcuffs on his belt. I blushed, and looked away. He smiled, and then chuckled.
The car was drivable, but with a crumpled right rear fender. I was afraid Ron would explode when he got home. One time, my mother was in a fender bender, and my dad yelled at her for three days, off and on.
Ron came home, and in tears, I hugged him and told him of the accident. His first concern was that I was alright. I reassured him I was fine, but a little shaken. He went out to the kitchen and fixed drinks for us. Then we sat together, and he had me tell him what had happened. He drives his sports car to work, and he said he knew all about how hard it is to see around the big SUV’s. He hugged me, and reassured me that his main concern was that I was not hurt. Then he called the insurance company, and arranged for an adjuster to come out tomorrow. He took half a day off work and met with the adjuster. Together, they drove around to different body shops, to get estimates, and my car was to be fixed in a few days. He arranged a rental, paid by the insurance, and the next day we dropped the car off at the body shop.
I knew then that I could trust Ron, and that he would take care of me. I had lived with him for three years as his wife, and had seen him angry. All married couples have arguments, but he never raised a hand to me, and never treated me with anything but respect, even when we argued. I felt warm about our love, and knew I could depend on him.
I decided that if Ron wanted his woman tied up, that was what he was going to get. At the thought I felt wicked, as if I was doing something I was not supposed to do. I felt like a schoolgirl sneaking a sip of her daddy’s whisky, or kissing the boys in back of the garage where mom and dad could not see.
I looked again at the bondage magazines in the basement. Many of the women were in black lingerie, and stockings and some of the stockings had old fashioned seams in them. I could dress like that, and tie myself up. However, I needed something for my hands, since I could not manage the ropes to tie them together. I remembered the handcuffs the police officer had, and wondered where to get some. The internet has everything. I searched online for handcuffs, and found a discount place. They promised that they usually shipped the same day. I ordered a peerless model 700, as it said that it did not damage tissue. I did not want damage. Fortunately, I did not have to talk to anyone, and I even blushed as I ordered a pair. I planned to surprise my husband on Friday, so there would be time to get them.
The next day, it was off to the mall. I went to the leading lingerie shop in the mall. They are expensive, but they have sexy lingerie. A young sales lady waited on me, and helped me select a black lace push up bra, matching bikini panties, and a garter belt. I passed on the G strings. She was kind and understanding, as if this was an everyday purchase. I asked about stockings, and she led me to a rack filled with all kinds. I looked them over, and found a black seamed pair, with the old fashioned look of a reinforced foot, and Cuban heel. They were expensive, so I only bought one pair. The store clerk wrapped my purchases and put them in their distinctive bag. Then I was off to the shoe store. I found a lovely pair of dress sandals, with three straps and a jeweled heart over the toes, and an ankle strap that crossed behind the ankle, then over the front to buckle on the side. They had four inch heels, and were the kind of shoe that would turn heads. When I tried them on, they fit perfectly. They made me toweringly tall. I felt sinful buying all this, but it was a delicious sinful.
Then, I went to a discount store at the end of the mall. They carried hardware. I looked at the chains and locks and things, but decided against that. It seemed too impersonal. I found some nylon braded rope, and bought that. I knew the checkout girl thought I was kinky, as she looked at the rope and then me and smiled. I blushed, but paid, and put it in with my other purchases. It was only then that I realized that my bag with the logo of the lingerie shop was plainly showing.
I hurried out to the car, and put the purchases in the trunk. Then I went back into the mall. There was a fancy pet store there. The little puppies were cute, and the birds were colorful. However, I was after something different. I found a black collar with rhinestone jewels, and picked out a chain leash with a snap on one end, and a leather hand loop on the other. I paid for these. I wandered the mall for a bit, and found a bridal shop. They had long white spandex gloves on the manikin in the window. I went in and found they carried black gloves as well. I purchased a pair, and then went home.
Stripping off my clothes, I took out the black lace bikini panties. They slid sensuously up my legs, to fit perfectly over my hips. I fitted my breasts into the cups of the black lace bra, and fastened it behind me. It held my breasts like two hands, cupping them and lifting them. I fastened the garter belt around my waist, and opened the nylons. They felt smoother than the normal pantyhose, and slid across my fingers like a gossamer web. I rolled them up, and put my foot in one. Keeping the seam straight, I unrolled it up my leg, and fastened it to the clips of the garter belt. I put the other stocking on the same way, then took the sandals out of the box, and fitted the first one to my foot. I purposefully fastened the strap tight around my ankle. Putting on the second shoe, I stood up, and felt like I was six feet tall. I smoothed the stockings, and then fastened the collar around my neck. It fit snugly without choking me. I clipped the leash to the collar, and then pulled the gloves on. I walked over to the mirror in the hall. As I moved the straps on the garter belt caressed my legs, sending a tingle over my body.
The mirror revealed a tall brunette, with shoulder length wavy hair, in good shape. I work out three times a week, and you could see some muscles in my stomach. I do not have an aerobic instructor body, but I do keep in shape. My breasts filled the bra completely, and my hips, wider than they should be, were still not too bad. I turned and looked at the back of my legs. The seams in the stockings made them look long, and the four inch heels made them seem longer still. The muscles in my calf were there, too, accented by the heels. I was dressed like a fantasy, leashed and collared, and ready to be owned. My breathing came faster, and I realized I was getting turned on. Something was missing, though. I went back into the bedroom, and found a black nylon scarf. I tied it through my mouth and around my head in a Hollywood-style gag. Then I took a second scarf, and wrapped it around my wrists, behind my back. This I did not tie, and just held in place.
I walked out to the mirror, and looked again. In the reflection, I saw a bound woman like in the magazines. A tingle spread over my thighs, and crotch, and I was getting turned on.
Denying my feelings, I went back in the bedroom and quickly stripped off the clothing and put it in an empty gym bag that I hid in the back of my closet.
That evening, I met Ron at the door with a drink for him, and gave him a big kiss. "What’s that for?" he asked.
"For being such a special guy for me. Taking care of the car, and not getting upset. Thank you." I had fixed his favorite meal, with wine, and even bought some cheesecake for dessert. At bedtime, I slipped into a sexy nightie, and we made passionate love. All the time, I was thinking of the black lingerie and me tied and helpless. The fantasy made me respond like an animal, and I guess Ron was a bit surprised. However, from the smile on his face, I could tell he loved it.
The next day, a Thursday, brought a delivery from UPS. There was a smile on the UPS driver’s face, and I was horrified to see the logo of the handcuff discount place prominent on their package. I quickly signed for the package, and ducked inside.
I could not wait to get the package open. I tore the wrapping, and opened the box. The handcuffs were cool to the touch, and silvery. There were two keys attached by a light key ring. I removed them from the handcuff chain, and read the instructions. I found out how to lock the cuffs so they would not ratchet tighter, and practiced a couple of times, opening and closing them. Then I clicked them on. They felt smooth and hard around my wrists. I found I was getting excited, having them on, and I gave a tug. They were on to stay, until released with the key. I quickly unlocked them, and put them in with the lingerie. I stuffed the wrapping paper in with the garbage, and took it out to the trash can, being careful nothing showed.
Friday was show time. I hurried home from work, and ate a light lunch. Ron gets home on Fridays at a little after six, so I had to be ready by then.
I unpinned my hair, letting it fall down to my shoulders. Ron likes it down, but for work, I pin it up in a professional manner. I ran the tub, added bubble bath, and had a nice long soak. I shaved my legs and underarms so all would be smooth, then got out and dried myself. I put on deodorant, and a bit of powder, then washed and dried my hair, fluffing it so it had body.
I put on my makeup, doing it up like a Hollywood Starlet, with full red lips, black eyeliner, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, and blush. I have to admit, I looked good.
I went into the kitchen, and fixed dinner, so it would be all set to microwave, to heat it up. I put a bottle of wine in the fridge to chill. Then I took out a special card I had bought. It showed a couple holding hands on a beach, and staring west at the sunset. It was all purple and pinks, and very romantic. Inside it said "Together always". I wrote a note inside the card.
"Ron, I love you now and forever. If you need something, I will try to provide it for you, just as you provide for me. I am yours, as you are mine. We are one, together. I surrender myself to you, and am at your mercy. Be gentle with me, as I know you will. Love, Jen."
I almost cried at this, but held it back. I sealed the card, and taped it to the iron railing at the landing where the front door entered the house. He could not help but see it.
I went into the bedroom, took off my robe and hung it up. Then setting the gym bag on the bed, I took out the lingerie, and put it on. I adjusted the clips on the garter belt to keep the nylons smooth, and put on the shoes. Then with a deep breath, I took the rope, handcuffs and scarf out, and laid them on the bed. I unwrapped the rope then put the wrapping in the gym bag, and put the bag away.
I got a pair of scissors out, and cut the rope into four equal parts. I went out to the kitchen at the top of the stairs, taking handcuffs, rope, and the scarf with me, as well as a light jewelry chain necklace. I threaded a key through the necklace, and put the spare key in the kitchen drawer.
I doubled the rope, and wrapped it around my waist, then threaded the two ends through the loop in front. I drew it back behind me, and tied it off, making it nice and tight. A tingle went through me as I did this. The rope had settled in my pussy, and was against my clit. I noticed I was breathing heavy at this time, and took a couple of deep breaths to calm me down. I took the scissors from the kitchen drawer, and cut off the loose ends.
I checked the clock. It was five-thirty, so I could not fool around. I sat on the top step, and putting my feet together on the third step, wrapped a rope around my ankles. I tied a knot in front, then took the loose ends, and wrapped them around the rope between my ankles. That tightened things up, but without being too tight. Then I knotted the two ends together.
In the same fashion, I tied my legs together above and below the knees. I put the scarf between my teeth, and tied it behind my head in a bow. I fluffed my hair over it. I put on the long gloves, and with a deep breath, fastened the cuffs to my left wrist. I used the key on the chain to set the cuffs, so it could not be tightened, but realized I would not be able to do that with the right cuff. Oh well. I would have to be careful.
I buckled the collar around my neck, and fastened the leash to the railing. Then I snapped the leash to my collar.
I arched my back, and looked over my right shoulder. I reached behind my back and grabbed the dangling cuff in my right hand. Then, on impulse, I threaded the cuff so the chain was under the rope through my pussy. I fastened it closed around my right hand, and I was bound.
A tug on my hands sent a shock through my crotch. I thought, ‘I’d better not do that again, or I won’t be able to wait for Ron.’
Just then, the phone rang. I knew I was not answering it. After four rings, Ron’s voice came on the answering machine. "Honey, pick up if you are there. The boss landed a big contract and he is buying drinks and appetizers for the employees. We are all at the sports bar, two blocks down from work. You know where it is. If you like, join us. Free drinks and food is not bad. If not, I will be home by nine. Love you."
I let out a scream of frustration, "Nooooooo." Then for the first time, I said, "Jen, you’re an idiot.
‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘in the movies, heroines are always escaping from danger. I can do this.’ I stood up, and realized it is not easy to stand in four inch heels, with your legs tied together. Tottering back and forth, I sat down quickly. A fall even down a few steps could break my neck, since it was tethered to the iron railing by a collar and a leash. Not a good idea.
Next, I brought my feet up to floor at the top of the stairs. The crotch rope was doing interesting things during this twisting, and turning. I tried to ignore its tug at my body. Now that I was all on the top level, the next thing to do was to stand up. I brought my legs around under me, and managed to roll up on my knees. Now all I had to do was stand. I could not do it.
Okay, I slid over to the railing, and put my feet on the floor. I hooked the back of my neck over the railing, and arched my body. ‘Great, now my feet are four feet from the railing, and I am a human bridge.’ A bit of hopping brought my feet under me, and at last I was able to stand. I was looking at the doorway to the kitchen. In a drawer in the kitchen was the spare key. It was just around the corner. I hopped to the kitchen, but was brought up short in the doorway by the leash. The tugs on my crotch rope were getting more insistent, and my breasts were bouncing up and down in the bra. I looked longingly inro the kitchen, imagining the knives to cut the ropes, and the key to unlock the cuffs, but they might as well have been on the moon. I crouched down to get more slack in the leash, and got a further couple of inches into the kitchen. Here I was, standing in the doorway, and unable to go in an inch further. I tried turning around and reaching with my hands, but the crotch rope kept them pinned to my body.
The frustration, the bondage, and the crotch rope finally had their effect, and I came with an earth shattering orgasm. I slumped against the wall, and cried in frustration.
I thought, ‘Okay, all is not lost. There is still the key around my neck. All I need to do is hook the chain, and break it, and the key will fall to the ground. Then freedom.’ I looked around me, and there was nothing to hook it on. The railing was rounded, with no corners. The hooks on the pictures were out of reach, and there was nothing around me.
I tucked my chin down, and tried to bounce the key into my mouth, to pull it free. This had the effect of bouncing my breasts up and down, and having my hands tug at the crotch rope. Try as I could, I could only get the key to fly up and hit my chin. Again I felt a wave of frustration come over me, followed by another orgasm. I slumped to the floor, and said again, "Jen, you’re an idiot."
I tried reaching the knot on the rope with my hands, but I could only get my gloved thumb to touch the knot. With the gloves on, I could not get a hold on the knot. Again, I came in an orgasm. This one was delightful. I thought, well, I am tied up, but this has its benefits. Still, I couldn’t let Ron see what a fool I’d been.
The next time, I will have a cell phone, a pair of scissors, a key, a pair of bolt cutters, or something close at hand. Then, I guess it would not be bondage, but only pretend.
I gave a futile tug at the cuffs, and the rope pulled at my crotch. Pulling on it rubbed my already abused clit. An electric like shock tingled through my thighs and crotch at this, and I thought, ‘Oh, no, not again.’ I pulled again, and there was the shock again. A few more tugs, and I was moving my hips, putting more tension on the rope, and pulling it with the hand cuffs. Again, I was soaking my black lace nylon bikini panties, but I did not care, as another orgasm coursed through my body. I collapsed against the post of the iron railing. Again I said, "Jen, you’re an idiot."
Later, the front door was unlocked, and Ron quietly entered. He was startled to see me bound at the top of the stairs, then he noticed the card. He looked to make sure I was breathing, and was rewarded with the rhythmic sound of me, sound asleep.
He opened the card, and read it. He smiled. He said, softly, "It looks like she found the magazine, I left out."
Removing his shoes, he quietly tiptoed up to me. His eyes drank in the sight of me. No longer in perfect makeup, and with a snag in one stocking, to him I was still the most beautiful woman in the world. He smelled my favorite perfume, and also caught the scent of my arousal. He smiled. "Looks like you had quite a night of it. If I had known, wild horses could not have kept me away."
He gently undid the key from its chain, and unsnapped the leash. He untied the bow behind my head, and removed the silk scarf from my mouth. I stirred at this, but drifted back to sleep. He untied my legs, and uncuffed my hands.
The movement of my arms woke me up with a grimace of pain.
I looked up at him, as he scooped me up in his arms. He took me to the bedroom, and gently undressed me. He pulled back the covers, and slid my legs in, then covered me over and tucked me in. He undressed quickly, and slid next to me. I cuddled with him, and drifted back off to sleep.
The next day, I awoke and stretched as I liked to do. Then I tried to pull my arms down to get out of bed. They were tied to the corners of the bed.
I tried to pull my feet up, but they were tied to the bottom of the bed.
"Yes dear?" I heard from the front room.
"I can’t move, Ron."
"Yes dear," he replied, as if this were a normal occurrence.
He entered the bedroom with a tray, containing a croissant, butter, jelly, and a cup of coffee. He buttered and jellied the croissant and fed me bites between the sips of coffee.
He said, "Last night, you surrendered to me. I missed it but you did not put a time limit on the card. I think I will keep you as my slave girl, at least for this weekend. Then other weekends, and nights, as we grow into this together. I will use you for my gratification, and yours. You will be helpless to resist."
I smiled. Maybe I am not such an idiot after all.